From Blazewood to the Vanquishers' City, Phaga spent about half an hour behind the wheel.
But tearing all the way back from the Vanquishers' City to Blazewood? The group did it in under ten minutes!
From start to finish, the off-road vehicle was practically airborne, plowing through the yellow sand kicked up by the motorcycles ahead. It chased them like its life depended on it, the engine's roar completely drowning out the rush of dopamine pounding in their ears.
At one point, Ellen was convinced that if they kept this up, the engine would blow a cylinder and the tires would burst into flames.
But the tires didn't ignite.
When they finally reached Blazewood, the ride of pure speed and madness came to an end.
Phaga unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, his steps unsteady as his feet hit the ground. For the first time, he felt the earth was so friendly—so solid and reassuring.
He immediately slapped a hand onto the scorching hood. Gritting his teeth, Phaga praised it sincerely:
"You little thing… you're a beast."
Taking another deep breath, he forced down the discomfort in his body, walked around to the other side of the vehicle, and pulled open the driver's door.
Sure enough, Ellen was in even worse shape than he was. A fine sheen of sweat covered her body, and she was nearly limp against the seat, unable to move, clearly waiting for Phaga to undo her seatbelt.
"Hm? Ellen?"
"Mm… so tired…"
But the instant the seatbelt came loose, it was as if all the strength drained from her bones. Ellen collapsed straight into Phaga's arms, a damp yet firm sensation pressing against his chest.
Phaga froze for a moment, assuming it was just her sweat.
Then a sharp pain followed.
She was biting him.
Phaga's whole body jolted as if struck by electricity, instinctively trying to pull back.
But Ellen seemed to have anticipated it. She wrapped both arms tightly around his waist in advance, refusing to let him go, and muttered in dissatisfaction:
"Don't leave. Just one more little bite—just a little. Look how tired I am. One bite on your arm gave me strength already. If I bite a bit longer, I'll definitely get even more."
"Of course, if you're tired, you can bite me too. I don't mind."
"I do mind! We're working right now! And stop messing around—this strength of yours was always there!"
Phaga pressed a hand against Ellen's head, trying to push her away by force.
Just then, a voice suddenly came from ahead. It was Overlord Pompey. Apparently hearing the commotion, he turned back and asked,
"Did something happen? Do you need—"
"No, no! Nothing at all!" Phaga cut in immediately, forcing a smile. "My assistant's just feeling a bit unwell. She needs to rest for a moment—she'll be fine soon."
In reality, Phaga was sweating bullets.
Even though he wasn't acting under the Victoria Housekeeping name this time, he still had to keep dealing with Pompey afterward. If Pompey saw him and Ellen being so openly intimate—biting each other in broad daylight—it would be awkward.
No, extremely awkward.
The social death was so complete that a dark thought flashed through Phaga's mind: forget collateral damage—just kill Lucius and be done with it. Anyone who tried to stop him would get the same treatment.
Fortunately, Pompey was surprisingly considerate. Or perhaps an inexplicable chill made him turn away. Without looking back, he took out his watch and said calmly,
"The Sons of Calydon will arrive shortly… If your assistant isn't well, she may rest off to the side. I'll have her sent to the hospital later."
"Thank you for your concern, but she'll recover soon…"
Phaga replied with an awkward smile, then turned his attention back to Ellen.
Just like before, she clung tightly to him, greedily inhaling his scent.
"Vampire… so tasty…"
Ellen murmured softly, then let out a quiet growl, opened her mouth wide, and sank her sharp teeth into Phaga's chest.
At some point, she had stopped feeling shy about this level of intimacy. Instead, she was like a true deep-sea predator, making no effort to hide her bloodlust and greed.
"So which one of us is the vampire, you or me?" Phaga said helplessly. "I don't remember ever using my vassal ability on you."
With no way to deal with her, he could only stroke Ellen's hair.
As a vampire, Phaga naturally possessed the ability to turn others into his vassals. He didn't know whether other vampires had it, but he certainly did.
He hadn't realized it himself at first—but after seeing Black Phaga freely controlling Ethereals inside the Hollow, everything clicked.
So that's how powerful I am.
Thankfully, he had never used that ability on Ellen.
Which meant that although her emotions had taken on an unhealthy edge, they were undeniably genuine.
Almost unconsciously, Phaga wrapped an arm around her waist and gently helped her stand.
"Phaga…"
Ellen was still dazed, her eyes unfocused.
"Shh. Don't talk."
Phaga raised a finger to his lips, then slowly lowered his head.
The finger between them gradually slid down.
...
"Hey, Pompey—what's with that vehicle behind you?"
Before long, the head steward Lucy arrived with her boss and the rest of the Sons of Calydon. Lucius had his mouth stuffed with a rag, while Lighter held him in place behind Lucy, keeping a deliberate distance.
Everyone else stared at Pompey with hostile eyes. Lucy stood at the very front, a baseball bat slung over her shoulder. She planted it firmly, blocking Burnice—who couldn't speak but was bursting with things to say—behind her.
Then she jabbed an elbow back into Caesar's thigh, stopping her from running her mouth as well.
With all her problem children dealt with, Lucy finally stepped forward. Her eyes flicked to the off-road vehicle parked behind Pompey.
She couldn't see Ellen, but a sharply dressed young man was standing by the driver's door—an oddly unsettling sight no matter how she looked at it.
"He's my business partner," Pompey said flatly without turning around. "He drove here at high speed and isn't feeling well."
"But that isn't today's topic. Where is the leader of the Sons of Calydon? Have her come forward to speak."
"Heh—Overlord sir, I'm right here…"
The moment Caesar heard Pompey call for her, she raised her hand with a goofy grin and was about to step forward.
"Stop right there!" Lucy snapped. "I hereby declare that the leadership of the Sons of Calydon has changed hands. I'm the leader now—Luciana de Montefio!"
"Huh? When did that happen?" Caesar asked blankly.
"Just now!"
Caesar scratched her head, feeling a bit dizzy.
But Lucy's expression was just too—adorable… no, fierce. She looked exactly like a street kitten baring its claws in warning.
If Caesar kept arguing with her, Lucy would probably pounce like an anxious little cat.
"Have you finished discussing?" Pompey asked after clearing his throat. "This may be presumptuous, but I can't help asking—why is the one with the greatest authority not the gang's leader?"
His gaze settled on Lucy at the front.
"Hmph! The Sons of Calydon have their own special circumstances," Lucy said, bracing both hands on her baseball bat to make herself look more imposing. "Even if you're an Overlord, you don't get to pry into our affairs!"
Then she shouted sharply,
"And that's beside the point! We're here for serious business today… Corin!"
"Y-Yes… yes!"
Hearing her name, Corin immediately stepped forward, hugging her chainsaw to her chest. After one glance at the imposing Overlord Pompey, she instinctively lowered her head in fear.
But remembering this was a mission, Corin silently cheered herself on. She forced herself to raise her head and look at Pompey, speaking haltingly:
"Th-This Overlord sir… Based on my observations along the stretch of road between New Eridu and Blazewood, I found no fresh tire tracks."
"Combined with the rate at which gravel gets buried and the wind speed, I calculated that no other gangs' vehicles have passed through there for at least two hours… The only ones who traveled that route were the Proxy we invited, and your Vanquishers' Lucius."
"But… but your Lucius, acting on information from an unknown source, forced the Proxy we paid a high price to hire into the Hollow—nearly getting her killed."
Thud!
Lucy slammed her baseball bat into a nearby rock, the sharp sound echoing through the air.
"Pompey," she said coldly, "give us an explanation."